


Bitter Sweetness

by ImACatWithABat



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Parenting, Bisexual Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms), Bobby | Trevor Wilson Defense Squad, Broken Bones, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Child Abuse, Coming Out, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food Poisoning, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Homosexuality, Hospitals, M/M, Pre-Scene: The Orpheum Performance 1995 (Julie and The Phantoms), Stomach Ache, Tree Climbing, Vomiting, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29304279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImACatWithABat/pseuds/ImACatWithABat
Summary: Reggie Peters’ life told through snapshots. From death, to family issues, to romance.A rewrite (kind of?) of my first fic, Back To Black. I loved the concept, but hated the writing.
Relationships: Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Alex Mercer & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters, Bobby | Trevor Wilson/Reggie Peters
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Bitter Sweetness

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Back to Black](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204599) by [ImACatWithABat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImACatWithABat/pseuds/ImACatWithABat). 



_Reggie, Age Seven, 1985:_

  
  


Reggie stands silently at his mother’s side, her hand gripping his. He can feel her stiletto nails digging into his small hand, and he wants nothing more than to run away, like a rabbit in a hunter’s trap. The black suit he’s wearing is itchy and uncomfortable, and his shoes are so big he’s practically swimming in them.

“Mommy, are we going home soon?” He asks as softly as he can, since no one else is talking, and the words “Shut up, Reggie!” are super glued into his brain forever. His mom’s face whips around to face him, and he knows that look of annoyance too well.

“Reggie!” she shushes him. “We have to be quiet now. We’ll be home soon enough,” she finishes, already done with their conversation. Reggie knows better than to ask again, and lets his head hang down. There’s a really sad song playing in the background, and it’s fitting for a funeral. He only kind of realizes what’s going on. 

He’s seven years old, and all he knows is that Grandpa isn’t coming back. He tries his best to ask more questions, and figure out what’s really happened, but no one will answer him; they always just get mad. He feels like an idiot. What more can you expect from a troublemaker like Reggie?

  
  
  


_Reggie, Age 12, 1990:_

  
  


Reggie met Alex, Luke, and Bobby last year after he switched schools, and they’ve been attached at the hips ever since. It had been so hard moving from a city in New York (not NYC, if someone asks him if he’s from there one more time, he is going to scream) to L.A., but the boys have made the adjustment so much easier. Now instead of doing stupid things on his own, he can do even more stupid things, but with his friends!

  
  


That’s pretty much how Reggie’s ended up in his current situation. He’s 15 feet up a tree, with his friends shouting various things at him. Luke and Bobby are cheering him on, they’re the ones who dared him to climb to the top. Alex is anxiously telling him to come down before he gets hurt. He’s only halfway up, and yells down to comfort his friend.

“Don’t worry Alex! It’s not that high! I’ll be fine!”. He focuses his gaze back on his hands, which are clutching the gnarled branches. He lifts one foot up, and then the next. He’s reaching up towards the top of the tree when he hears a cracking noise. _Uh oh_ , he thinks, before the limb of the tree he’s standing on snaps. 

  
  


As he falls, he can feel leaves and branches hitting him, and scratching any skin that’s not covered by his clothes. He’s pretty sure his back and face are bleeding, and he can see at least three cuts on his leg. If this fall doesn’t kill him, his mom will.

Realistically, he knows falling from this height will probably be fine. Unless he hits his head or spine at just the right angle, he’ll live. He’ll be fine. 

Alex is definitely screaming now. Reggie can’t really understand him, but hey, it’s the thought that counts! 

Reggie hits the ground with an ugly crunch. Pain spikes up through his wrist and up to his arm. It’s definitely broken. He can feel tears coming down his face, mixing with snot and the blood from the cuts on his face.

  
  


He ends up being fine. A few hours later he’s in the hospital with his arm in a cast, and there are bandages over his various injuries. He’s even gotten a popsicle from one of the nice nurses. His parents aren’t there yet, they couldn’t get off of work, but he’s with his best friends and Mrs. Patterson. Luke and Alex are bickering about who gets to sign his cast first. Bobby’s stolen some craft supplies, and he’s making a “Get Well Soon” card. And that’s enough for Reggie.

  
  
  


_Reggie, Age 13, 1991:_

  
  


Today, Alex is shaking so hard that he looks like a freezing cold chihuahua. He’d seemed so off during rehearsal today, and he almost sounded wary when he asked everyone to “hold on a sec”. Alex was normally some level of nervous, but not about him, Luke and Bobby!

Alex took a deep breath to steady himself, and his voice cracked as he spoke,

“I’m gay,” Alex looks like he’s about to throw up, “And I know that’s weird, and bad, and creepy. And I’m sorry and I understand if you never want to see me again so-” He’s cut off when Luke throws his arm around him in a hug. Reggie sprints over to join them, and does his best to crush his best friends. Bobby isn’t far behind him, even though he typically opts out of group hugs.

“Thanks for trusting us, dude. And all that stuff you said before? Being gay isn’t bad, or creepy, or whatever! It’s normal, and it’s okay. We love you, Alex,” Reggie tells him. Alex lets out a breath and nods. He looks relieved. 

Reggie is so glad his family is safe.

  
  


_Reggie, Age 14, 1992:_

  
  


A bolt of lightning jolts through Reggie’s heart when he hears the door to his room slam open. His parents shouldn’t be home yet! He’d been having such a great day too, acing his math test and then killing his solo during rehearsal. The song he’s listening to is not one he wants his father to hear. It’s from a musical that’s called Falsettos. It had come out this year, and Alex forced him to listen to it. The song he has on is a duet between two lovers, embarrassing enough, right? No, the couple is made up of two men, and that makes being caught terrifying.

“What song is that, Reggie?” His dad asks, false sweetness in his tone. When Reggie doesn’t answer, he starts shouting.

“I asked, what fucking song is that, Reggie!” His father shouts as his fist crashes into the wall.

“The Thrill of First Love,” He says as he shrinks into himself. God, Reggie was such an idiot. He deserves to be punished, listening to that song without his headphones! How could he be goddamn stupid? Reggie looks down at the floor, and imagines himself anywhere. Yeah, he’s sitting on the pier at the beach. The waves are crashing on the sand, and his heart rate can slow just a little.

The illusion is broken as his father reaches towards him and grips his face. Dirt and dust from his hand smear on Reggie’s face, and he can smell freshly cut grass and mud. At that moment, it’s the worst scent in the world.

“Are you a fucking queer, Reg? Huh? Are you a goddamned homo?” His father’s face twists and contorts itself, mocking Reggie.

“No, Dad,” He says shakily, his voice laced with tears.

“Are you sure, Reginald?”

“Yes,”.

His father drops his face, and Reggie knows when he looks in the mirror, there’ll be bruises where his fingers gripped. His dad stands up silently, and turns to leave.

“Dad… Daddy? I’m sorry,” He knows his voice is squeaky and tear-stained. His dad turns to look back at him. He barely acknowledges his son as he finally says,

“Goodnight, Reggie,”.

Reggie is done for the day, and he turns onto his side to fall asleep.

  
  


_Reggie, Age 15, 1993:_

  
  


“ _When did Bobby get hot?_ ” is the first thing Reggie thinks one day as he walks into the studio. “ _Woah! Where did that come from?_ ” is the second. Bobby’s sitting on a stool and playing some warm-ups on his guitar. His hair is perfectly tousled, and shiny in the room’s light. His outfit is pretty plain, and he’s wearing those stupid suspenders again. Reggie wants to grab onto them, and pull Bobby into a kiss. Wow. Day 1 of a crush, and he’s already got it bad.

“Reggie! Get over here, I wanna show you this riff I thought of,” Bobby proceeds to play a pretty bangin’ riff, and Reggie stares dumbly at him.

“You okay, man?” Bobby asks him.

“Yeah dude, the riff sounds sick! You’ll have to show it to Luke. I’m sure he’s gonna love it,” Reggie answers as his cheeks flush.

“You really think so? Luke’s _soooo_ picky,” Reggie laughs a bit when Bobby makes the joke.

“It’s great, dude. If Luke doesn’t like it, he’s crazy,”

“Shit! Luke _is_ crazy! And here I had my hopes up,” Bobby says as he grabs his chest, dramatically acting wounded. Normally Bobby’s so quiet, and kinda broody. It’s nice to see him come out of his shell a bit. Reggie’s heart flutters in his ribcage. Forget “Day 1 of a crush”, it’s more like “Day one of realizing I’m legitimately in love with Bobby”. Reggie realizes he’s definitely been staring for way too long, and blushes as he looks away. Bobby smiles softly at him, and Reggie is _this close_ to kissing him on the spot. But he doesn’t. And band practice happens. And Reginald Peters is in love with Bobby Wilson.

  
  


_Reggie, Age 15 ½, 1993:_

  
  


Things aren’t going great for Reggie right now. It seems like his life is being sucked into the bottomless pit of teenage angst, and it sucks so bad.

He hasn’t worked up the courage to ask Bobby out yet. It’s hard enough to ask out your crush, but your gay crush? In the 90’s? It’s terrifying. He knows Bobby isn’t homophobic. Alex came out, and since, Bobby’s punched anyone who said anything. Reggie is no stranger to dabbing a bloody, bruised nose with a tissue, and getting ice packs for injured limbs. But what if he hated Reggie after? What if he’s fine with being gay, (or not really gay? Reggie still likes girls a lot too,) in theory, but when a boy has a crush on him, it’s weird. So things are not going too well in the romance department.

In bigger news, Reggie finally left his parent’s house. Yay. All it took was one too many fights with his dad, one too many annoyed looks from his mother, one too many punches, threats, or slaps in the face, and he was gone. 

He’s in the studio with Luke and Alex. And Bobby’s family owns the studio, so it’s pretty much all four of them together, all the time. He’s seen _way_ more than he ever wanted to. Ew. He’s with his chosen family, but he still misses his parents. The gentle stories and songs from his mom. The loving words she used to whisper in his ear when she hugged him. He misses the claps on the back, and the games of catch in the backyard with his dad. He knows the bad outweighs the good. But God, he misses the good.

But at least he’s not failing school. He has decent grades, and maybe he’ll be able to go to college on top of being in the band. 

Reggie knows it’ll be okay eventually, but right now? He wishes he could fall asleep until the future came.

  
  


_Reggie, Age 16, 1994:_

  
  


Reggie is so pumped right now. Floating on an angel’s cloud, jumping up and down, pure happy adrenaline running through his veins. Pumped. Things are going so great and nothing can bring him down.

  
  


Bobby had asked him out about four months ago. (Well, four months, two weeks, and four days ago. But who’s counting?). They’d gone on a few awkward dates, but at that point, they’ve known each other since sixth grade, they'd seen everything, and know everything about each other. The tense phase didn’t last long. Now they’re boyfriends, and Reggie _loves_ it. There is such a long list of things Reggie loves about it:

He has someone he can talk to no matter what? Love it. He can tease Bobby and then kiss his cheek, and Bobby will give him that beautiful, pure, rare smile? Reggie thinks God has blessed him. He can stare into Bobby’s gorgeous eyes as long as he wants without it being weird? Absolutely amazing. He can finally grab those stupid suspenders his adorable boyfriend wears and kiss said adorable boyfriend? The best, sickest, raddest, amazing, awesome, perfect thing ever.

God, even saying the word, “ _boyfriends_ ” is great. He’s so whipped for the beautiful guy he loves with all his heart.

  
  


They’d also finally booked The Orpheum. _THE ORPHEUM_! Sunset Curve is going to be legendary. Soon they’ll play the show, go on tour, release some sick albums, and go down in history as the greatest band who’s ever lived. 

His birthday is a month before the show, so he has that to look forward to. 

The best boyfriend who’s ever lived, an awesome gig coming up, his seventeenth birthday, AND the promise of a life of fame, money, and music? Reggie can’t wait.

  
  


_Reggie, Age 17, 1995:_

  
  


At first things are going well. They play the sound check better than they’ve ever played before. He got to see a pretty girl and give her a t-shirt. (Yes, he loves his wonderful boyfriend very much, but he can still admire. Bobby can too, Reggie is not upset that his boyfriend stayed to talk to the pretty girl. He trusts Bobby, and loves him to death.) He’s currently squashed between his two best friends and a couch, eating a hot dog. The only thing missing is pizza. And maybe a puppy.

He’s a few bites into the street dog when it starts. His stomach is turning, in an unusual way, but he dismisses it as pre-show butterflies, and keeps eating. His dad used to tell his mom that nothing can keep a teenage boy from his food. Ha, his dad’s finally right, for once. 

Then Alex starts coughing. It’s nothing new, sometimes Alex eats too fast, and chokes on his food. He’s always fine. Always.

But then it doesn’t stop.

“Dude, do you need me to heimlich you?” Luke teases, “Cause you know I’m always willing to heimlich you,”.

“Leave him alone Luke, he’s choking, and all you can do is tease,” Reggie snorts as he talks. It might be mean, but it is funny. 

Then another wave of nausea hits him, and it’s not just butterflies anymore. He jumps up from the torn up, old couch, and runs to the nearest restroom. He doesn’t make it. He’s halfway across the room when he feels the bile come up his throat. It’s more than he can bear, and so he lets it out. He feels the acidic vomit trickle down his lips, down his chin, and onto the floor. Why do hotdogs have to be _so disgusting_ when they come back up?

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and he wishes Bobby were here. Bobby would pet his hair, and hold him, and make everything okay. Reggie looks back towards Alex and Luke, and they look worse than Reggie feels.

Luke has gone pale, and green at the same time. He looks like he’s actively trying not to chuck his guts up on the bar floor. The spark in his eyes from earlier is gone, he’s too sick to feel the passion for music he normally has.

Alex has gone from coughing to vomiting. The pink hoodie he’s wearing is stained down the front, and the dampness makes the pink look red. His eyes have gone all glassy and vacant. Reggie wonders where the bright drummer from earlier is now.

It takes ten minutes of throwing up and the worst pain Reggie has ever felt for Reggie to realize how serious this is. He’s sitting against the wall next to his friends, trying desperately to keep his flipping stomach down. It’s not working too well. All three of them are covered in a vile mixture of vomit, tears, and various things they’ve picked up from laying on the filthy floor. Luke has an old piece of gum stuck just above his left eyebrow, and normally, Reggie would be laughing. But not now.

All he can think about is how much he misses Bobby. He wonders where he is, when he’s coming to get him. If this is as bad as Reggie thinks it is, Bobby _has_ to get there. Reggie has to stay awake until Bobby gets there. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t.

Then Alex looks at Reggie. Their eyes meet, and all Reggie can think about is how terrified his friend looks. His eyes are bulging out of his head, and his lips are pressed so tightly together that they’ve cracked, blood rushing down his face. Alex doesn’t look like any version of Alex that Reggie knows. He looks more like one of the zombies from the last movie he saw.

Then Alex’s eyes widen just a bit more, before closing completely. He slumps against Reggie’s shoulder, and Reggie almost screams. Or maybe he does? His mind has detached itself from his body. A bystander assures him that everything will be fine, that the ambulance is on its way. The bystander can’t feel Alex’s pulse weakening against him.

Reggie can tell he’s losing himself. God, if he could take a nap right now. But he forces himself awake for Bobby. He can wait for Bobby. He has to wait for Bobby. Bobby. He almost nods off, but stops himself. Keep it together, Reggie. For Bo-.

  
  
  
  


Reggie passes out just before the door slams open. A young man with wild eyes pushes through the crowd. He’s followed by a girl, maybe a year or two older than him. The man arrives at the front of the people and falls to his knees. Tears fall down his face, which is blotchy and red. The girl stands next to him, she asks,

“Is it them? Is it him?”. The boy nods as more snot dribbles and smears on his lip. He reaches towards one of the unconscious boys, the one with a flannel tied around his waist. He grips the body, and sobs harder. The girl with him grabs the boy’s wrist, to check for life. She finds it. She tells the crying man, and he focuses his gaze on her. A bittersweet smile plays on his lips. 

“Really?” he asks, disbelieving. She nods.

  
  


_Bobby, Age 17, 1995:_

  
  


Bobby is a realist. At least, that’s what he calls himself. Anyone with a dash of common sense knows that he’s _totally_ a pessimist. Reggie used to say that.

But as he’s sitting in the hospital room, holding the hand of his seventeen year-old boyfriend, he wants so badly to be an optimist. He clings to the hope that Reggie will make it. Luke and Alex are gone. Fuck. He needs Reggie to be okay. If Reggie is gone too, Bobby has no clue what he’ll do. 

As he waits, the heartbeat monitor beeping slowly, he looks at Reggie’s face. Jesus, they’re so young. Neither of them have graduated high school, for Christ’s sake. Reggie has freckles dusting across his nose, and soft, chubby cheeks that never quite lost their boy-ish appearance. They’re seventeen, and he’s holding Reggie’s hand in a hospital, waiting for him to wake up, or for him to die.

Why the fuck didn’t he get the damn street dogs? Normally he does, him and Reggie ordering, then sharing a drink before a show. But no, tonight he _had_ to go talk to Rose. She’s been nothing but great, of course, but Bobby wishes he had never met her. Maybe he could’ve gone with Reggie and Luke and Alex. Maybe then he could’ve been lying in a bed across from his boyfriend, instead of trapped in a plastic chair. Or maybe he’d be stone-cold in the morgue, next to his two best friends, just waiting for Reggie to join them. But no, “ _I’m a vegetarian! I could never hurt an animal! Don’t you guys have to go get hot dogs?_ ” He couldn’t even say “I love you”, all he said was some shit about hot dogs? Fuck him. Bobby hates nothing more than himself, just then. 

And so seventeen year-old Bobby Wilson sits alone, and cries, and waits.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Thanks so much for reading. I loved writing this, it was so cool to revisit my first JATP fic, I can tell how much I’ve improved, even with just a couple months. I hoped you like it, feel free to comment, I always love reading them.  
> Au revoir,  
> -Adds 💕


End file.
